


Valentine's Day

by littlewonder



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Conversations, Love Confessions, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 01:48:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17091815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlewonder/pseuds/littlewonder
Summary: Sherlock's always hated Valentine's. John changes his mind.





	Valentine's Day

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted to tumblr](https://isitanylittlewonder.tumblr.com/post/170872015529/it-had-taken-him-a-long-time-but-sherlock-finally)

It had taken him a long time, but Sherlock finally was able to stop hating Valentine’s Day. He had hated it vehemently for years, a holiday that seemed determined to call him out as the freak he was, determined to bring him down and make him feel like there was something wrong with him. It had only fuelled his hatred of other people, who had hated him in turn for as long as he could remember.

He was older now. The hurt and bitterness had faded. And then he met John Watson.

And John, he was different to all of them. He’d finally found someone just as lost as him, someone who thrilled as he did at solving crime, someone he knew he was already starting to fall for.

They met weeks before Valentine’s Day. And then it passed, as it usually did, with nothing special to mark the date.

In fact, John went out with someone else that night. Valentine’s Day hurt worse than ever, and he slept curled up in bed, after a hurt attempt at going to sleep before John’s return went sideways.

Tonight was much like that night. Only tonight, it was John he found, curled up on the sofa.

“John?”

He looked up at Sherlock, his eyes straining in pain. And then, there was a flash of fear in the dark.

“Sherlock?”

He wiped at his eyes, which Sherlock now realised were stained with tears.

“What happened?”

“Everything,” said John. “Everything happened.”

“Start at the beginning.”

“No. Sherlock, could you… be asking…?”

“Yes, I’m asking, now tell me,” said Sherlock, “what happened?”

“You happened.”

“Me?”

“You,” said John.

“Whatever I did wrong―”

“You didn’t. You did nothing wrong. It was me. All these years, Sherlock, there’s something I kept from you. I was ashamed of it, still am, a bit. No idea why, except when I think of all these things, little things in the past, that happened to me…”

“John,” said Sherlock. “You are not the only one the world has hurt. I’m just like you. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s something I could understand.”

“But will you accept ―”

“Yes, I really will. Just… please just tell me,” Sherlock said, and it was as though he was begging, like he was a hit child begging for mercy.  
It was the kind of thing John could understand. Before he’d become a strong soldier, he had suffered under his father’s intolerance, and on rare occasions, his hand. It had once been enough to make him quake and cry; and that had only made things worse.

John gave what mercy he was able to give to Sherlock, hating himself for becoming like his own father had been to him, to Sherlock.  
“I have been afraid to say it, all these years, but I… love you. And I know after all these years, after everything we’ve done to each other, I hardly deserve your love. And tonight it all just came crashing down on me, and I’m sorry, Sherlock, so sorry I hit you, and I know you told me you forgive me ―”

“No, I didn’t,” Sherlock said, “say that, I mean.”

“Right.”

“But I do.”

“…Right,” said John.

An uncomfortable silence passed between them, a silence of not knowing. Then Sherlock said, “I love you too.”

John looked at Sherlock in utter shock. And now that they knew what they were to each other, they remained in silence, barely able to believe it, let alone know what to do about it.

Gradually, Sherlock moved closer. It was awkward and there was still fear in it. He stopped and started many times.

“Oscillation on the pavement,” said John.

“Always means there’s a love affair,” finished Sherlock.

“So who is it?” said John.

“You, idiot,” Sherlock said, and finally closed the gap and pressed his lips to John’s. When he pulled apart, he stayed close, and breathed, “There’s never been anyone else.”

“Never? Not even…”

“Irene Adler,” said Sherlock at the same time that John said, “The Woman.”

“No,” agreed Sherlock, “not even the Woman.”

“Well that's… good to know.”

“You’re overjoyed, just admit it.”

“As soon as you admit that romantic entanglement would complete you as a human being.”

“It might,” Sherlock conceded.

“Not good enough. Just say it.”

“If it’s you,” Sherlock said, “then yes.”

“It would…”

“…complete me as a human being.”

“I’m overjoyed,” John said.

Sherlock smiled. “Good,” he said, and kissed John again.

“By the way,” John said, pulling away briefly, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”


End file.
